


His Mask Afixed (He Finds Himself Alone)

by Adenil



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Ceremony, Coming of Age, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6123256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a far distant land, young boys go through a ceremony to become men. Steeped in myth, yet intricately interwoven with everyday life, this ceremony will decide Arin's future and his humanity. But even a prayer for luck is not enough for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Mask Afixed (He Finds Himself Alone)

Arin was entranced by the soft  _ pt, pt, pt _ of his little, bare feet on the smooth stone floor. He kept his eyes glued to the ground as he walked, shoulders hunched, arms stiff at his sides. He hurried down the long hallway, slipping between the occasional shadows cast by the high pillars. The lights seemed so far away, and he was so small.

He scurried to the door and, hesitating only a moment, pressed his hand against it. The door responded sluggishly, but did eventually slide open. He stepped into the viewing chamber and held his breath.

At the foot of the stone and metal terminal knelt his Papa. Arin could see him only in profile; his Papa’s eyes were closed, thin lips moving as he whispered to himself. Probably a prayer for Arin to do well on his New Birth Day. Arin could see that the skin of his Papa’s second face was even pulled tight in concentration.

After a moment, his Papa finished and sighed deeply. He stood in one graceful movement and turned to Arin, his first face flickering into a smile. For a moment Arin could see the atrophied second face behind his Papa’s true self, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. It was always weird to see that side of men. Unless you were a very little boy, or a woman, your second face was always covered up by who you truly were inside.

“Well, kid?” Papa asked, raising his eyebrow at him. “Are you ready for your big day?”

Arin took a deep breath and nodded. His long hair flew into his eyes and he had to push it away to answer, “Yes, super ready. I’m gonna show everyone who I really am.”

Papa placed a hand on Arin’s head and ruffled his hair. “I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice laced with humor.

Arin batted his hand away. “Hey, knock it off.” He tried to look tough. “I gotta look good.”

“Oh? They’re going to cut it off soon anyway. I won’t get many more chances to mess it up.” With that, his Papa reached out and tugged lightly on a lock of hair. “How am I supposed to tease you?”

Arin giggled. “It’ll be easier when you can really see me.”

Papa smiled, but Arin could see in his eyes that he was more sad than happy. “That’s true, it will be. Are you ready?”

Arin nodded.

“Do you want to say a prayer?”

Arin rolled his eyes. “I said one before I left home.”

“It’s better to pray here at the center. It’s easier to be heard the closer you are.”

With a sigh, Arin nodded. “Fine, fine, but then can I go on?”

“You’ll know when you’re ready.”

Arin was more than ready, but he wanted to please his Papa. He knelt by the terminal like he’d seen his Papa do, and like he’d done countless times at home. He bowed his head and tucked his hair behind his ears, running through a generic luck prayer in his head. You didn’t have to speak it outloud, so Arin just thought it as hard as he could.

“Okay.” Arin jumped up the second he was done. “I gotta go!”

His Papa’s warm chuckle followed him as he raced through the next door. 

The hall opened up before him like a peeling fruit into a large, echoing chamber. High rows of benches stood in two crescents on each side of the room, and the tiled ceiling was broken up occasionally with colorful glass that let golden light shine in. It made Arin feel good to know that he’d be spending so much time here after he found out who he was.

He was disappointed when he saw that he was one of the first boys there. That meant he’d have to wait forever as more boys trickled in from morning prayers ready to start the ceremony.

He wasted a little time counting the tiles on the ceiling. The seemed to keep shifting around, so it was a little hard, but he eventually settled on  _ a lot _ for a number and called it good. He played an impromptu game of wrestling with a couple other boys and won twice and only lost once. One of the Nicians in his long, blue robe came in and began trying to corral the boys. It took a little doing, but eventually they were all lined up and kneeling down, twitching with nervous energy. At least, Arin was twitching. He could barely sit still. He kept swiveling his head around as men began trickling in, taking up seats on the benches. 

He caught sight of his Papa and waved. Papa didn’t wave back; that probably meant Arin was supposed to be serious now.

He tried to school his face into a serious one, wondering what it would feel like when his new one was on. Would he stop feeling his skin pulling tight when he laughed? Would he no longer taste salt on his tongue when he cried? Would hot days in the sun still stain him pink? He didn’t know, but he was excited to find out. 

More of the blue-robed Nicians began to filter in, each carrying a small shaving kit. Their first faces were all schooled and disciplined, totally relaxed as they each stood behind a boy and took out their blades.

Arin tried not to wiggle as a Nician stepped behind him. The man’s smooth hand pulled his hair into a high knot and then paused. Around him, Arin could see the Nicians doing the same with the other boys.

Arin held his breath.

As one, the Nicians moved. Hair fell like rain silently to the floor. Arin sat still, shivering, as his brown hair scattered on the floor and disappeared. The Nician cut his hair all the way to the skin quickly and efficiently, but Arin felt like he was going to die for how long it was taking. Why couldn’t they move faster!

Finally, blessedly, it was done and the Nician stepped away. All of the hair had melted into the floor and so there was nothing to clean up. Arin still thought he saw a stray clump of hair that the ground had missed, and so he stepped on it to hide it under his foot. He could feel it tickling his toes.

The boy beside him rustled and moved, and Arin turned to look just in time to see the greatest Nician of all enter. Arin gasped a little, starry-eyed. Now here was the guy with all the information. His short cropped hair look fuzzy in the light and his first face was flickering between calm serenity and unbridled joy at seeing the boys all lined up and ready to become men. Oh, how Arin wanted to be him. That would be the best thing of all. To eat his orb and grow the face of a Leader.

The Leader held out his hand and, as if by magic, a Nician appeared and handed him an orb. The Leader didn’t even have to look at it to know whose it was. He spoke, breaking the silence with the name, “Richard Anders.”

A boy on the far end of the line stood up. He looked nervous and his chin was wobbling already. He staggered forward and stopped at the Leader’s feet. The Leader reached out and patted him on his newly-smoothed head in comfort.

“Feast and grow,” he commanded.

The boy held out his hands for the orb. It was smooth, about the size of an apple, and a pearly white with the barest hint of blue. It looked to Arin like the sky on a cloudy day. With a gulp, the boy opened his mouth and swallowed the orb.

Arin blinked, surprised that the boy had managed it, but already things were happening too fast for Arin to process. The boy choked, doubled over, wretched and threw up right at the Leader’s feet. It disappeared into the floor and then his face wavered. At first Arin just thought he was looking green because he felt sick, but no, that was his self emerging. His face rippled out, looking disturbingly like it was ripping the boy’s skin right off before it coalesced. 

Not bad, thought Arin. That boy would get to be a jewelery maker. Hopefully he liked fine, detailed work.

Two Nicians helped the boy up and escorted him away. The Leader read out another name; another boy stepped forward. The first boy got swallowed up by the crowd of assembled men, forever one of them.

The line of boys dwindled slowly as Arin shook with nervous energy. Oh, what was he going to get? He wanted to know--he needed to know! When would his orb come up? When would he find himself?

Finally--finally!--the Leader held out his hand and said, “Arin Hanson.”

Arin rushed forward, tripping over his bare feet and coming to a stop, swaying, in front of the Leader. He wanted to say something but he managed to shove the words deep inside. He couldn’t keep from smiling, though. 

“Feast,” the Leader said, his face softened by a smile. “And grow.”

Arin took the orb. He turned it over in his hands. He thought it looked almost yellow, like a sunflower. He’d always liked those, so he figured it was a good color for him. He was a little intimidated by the size of the thing. It was bigger than his fist! But he did what he’d seen the other boys do and held it to his mouth.

His mouth began watering immediately. The orb took on a strange, gooey feeling. With a gulp he swallowed it whole. He could feel it all the way down, horrible and chunky. He thought for a panicked second that he’d never be able to breathe again. It  _ hurt _ ; it was too much and--ugh! The nausea hit him in a wave. He doubled over as his stomach cramped, momentarily rejecting the orb. He managed to stamp down the bile that threatened to erupt. He couldn’t look bad in front of the Leader, he just  _ couldn’t _ . 

He gasped and moaned, closing his eyes as he felt the orb heat up in his belly. It was going to burn through him! He kept his eyes shut tight, waiting for the heat to travel through his blood and over his skin, to learn everything about him, discover him inside and out and reveal him to the world!

But it didn’t.

And it didn’t.

And it didn’t…

He opened his eyes and looked up at the Leader, who was no longer smiling.

At age six, Arin was born without a face.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more ideas for this universe, but remain unsure when I will get the chance to write them. Posting this as a standalone chapter for now.   
> Hope you enjoyed the strangely serious response to Arin's random sentence. <3


End file.
